Oh dear. I have less ten days to film over half an hour’s worth of footage. Filming at least 3 minutes of screen time every day? I’m screwed. So so screwed.
My facial hair sucks. Its colour is completely disproportionate to my head hair. Usually you’d get away with that eccentric reddish mo or the rugged grey-flecked beard. But no, my face settles for a thinned out blonde that looks deceptively like bumfluff in the end. Just look at it:
Ever heard of the nervous poo concept? To some, it’s known as phantom poos (“anxiety shits” was one I just heard) and it’s pretty straightforward.
If you’ve ever had to perform in sport, performing arts, music or elsewhere, you may have encountered the nervous poo. It’s the sensation of one needing to poo but, in reality, they don’t really have to at all.
Tonight, I’m singing for the college band, QCDC, and, as I write this, I’m hatching a plan that will hopefully safeguard against the almost inevitable nervous poo. Only time will tell – there’s probably a 75% chance you’ll get another post from me before I’m due on stage.
I’m gonna start up a 30 Day Challenge as soon as I’m done with uni later this month. It’s going to be fitness related again as I’ve been seriously out of the loop there and my love handles threaten to return in all their hideous glory.
It’s weird: when I was keeping fit, I was pretty frantic about getting in some form of exercise everyday. Now that uni’s gotten to the business end of the year, sport is less of a concern and I reckon that’s making me less productive. When I’d exercised for the day, I felt as though I’d worked hard enough to be able to sit around the rest of the day and consequently get work done. Now I force myself to sit at my desk and get homeworking right from the get-go.
WELL NO MORE. I will run tomorrow morning (maybe)!
As far as public toilets go, this one ain’t bad. The cubicle is spacious, the tiles are clean and are a nice bronzy colour. Yep, the Geelong train station really takes pride in its dunnies.
I need to update my toothbrush. Pretty sure the bristles were the cause of some inner mouth inflammation yesterday. I thought the toothpaste might have been overly acidic but apparently this isn’t the case.
This is one of my worst posts.
It’s actually astounding how much written reminders are conducive to getting my work done. Who would have thought I’d need an ever-present piece of paper informing me of what needs doing at that very moment in time (my mum probably knew this was necessary, actually).
Though in this age of messy bedrooms we (or maybe just I and a select few) find ourselves in, paper will not suffice in getting the job done. Enter iSticky, a simple Mac application I found when I entered something like ‘sticky notes Mac download’ in Google. It’s my second day of trialling the program and I really am getting stuff done that I probably wouldn’t expect to finish so in advance of deadlines had the app never been developed.
So in conclusion, if you’re suffering a chronic bout of procrastination for as long as I have, get onto iSticky or your PC equivalent, your sanity and uni tutors will love you for it.
Tonight is my 21st birthday party. To be completely honest, I’m absolutely terrified. I’m not terrified that people won’t have a good time, I’m not terrified that the party will end in some tragedy due to a rogue marquee. I am terrified because I must endure the obligatory 21st birthday party speeches.
As this blog makes pretty clear, I’m a fairly open guy and this translates to pretty much all aspects of my life. I’m not afraid to be downright silly at times because I don’t get too phased by what others think of me.
But gees, do my friends have some dirt on me.
There’s some things you don’t want your parents to hear/see. I’m pretty sure they know just about every embarrassing detail of my life, but I’m willing to bet I’ve overlooked some major incident that will rear its ugly head come nightfall. If I never post again, it’s because I’m dead. My mum killed me.